


his name on your heart

by spinningincircles



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Married Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinningincircles/pseuds/spinningincircles
Summary: Buck hops off the back of the ambulance, kneeling down so they’re eye to eye. “I’m always happy to help, sweetheart, but my name’s not—”But he stops, because it hits him like a freight train — heisMr. Diaz now.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 718





	his name on your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [florenceandthemachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/florenceandthemachine/gifts).



> this is all flo's fault. we're ALL soft bitches in this house!!
> 
> title from "knuckles" by moose blood

Smoke is still lingering in the air as they disconnect the hoses from the hydrants and wrap them up. It wasn’t a huge fire — faulty electrical wiring in a duplex — but the wind made it harder and harder to put it. Luckily, nothing had spread to surrounding houses or trees, and both families were safe and accounted for, including a corgi that had wiggled under the toilet in the burning bathroom. The team was dirty and exhausted but unscathed, too — except Buck, who could feel the lump on his head getting bigger by the minute. 

He’s inclined to blame this injury on the dog. He wouldn’t have hit his head on the toilet tank if it had been _cooperating_.

“Think you’ll make it?” Eddie asks, checking him over while Hen and Chim finish up with the residents. 

“I think I’m gonna have a headache for the next two days because of a dog that got itself free without my help,” Buck mumbles darkly. Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs quietly, offering Buck an ice pack that he accepts with a pout.

“Can’t wait to hear about it every 15 minutes,” Eddie says. Buck very maturely sticks his tongue out at him in response. They sit in comfortable silence as Eddie puts the supplies away and Buck takes in his surroundings. He’s about to ask what they should do for dinner tonight when a small voice carries across the lot.

“Mr. Diaz! Mr. Diaz!”

Buck looks and sees one of the kids — Molly, he thinks — waving frantically in their direction before hurrying over to them, her corgi held tightly to her little body. He nudges Eddie and nods towards the little girl. “I think you have an admirer.”

Eddie scrunches his eyebrows in confusion, turning just as Molly reaches them. She’s out of breath, what with running half a block and keeping a wiggling dog from escaping her grasp, but she shoots Buck a sunny smile with missing front teeth when she stops in front of him.

“Mr. Diaz! Thank you _so_ much for saving Scooter, he was so scared! But you got him out like a real superhero so thank you! Can I name my next pet after you? I wanna get a goldfish when we get our new house, and I wanna name him Diaz!”

Buck can’t help but smile at this girl’s boundless optimism despite her house literally burning down in front of her. He hops off the back of the ambulance, kneeling down so they’re eye to eye. “I’m always happy to help, sweetheart, but my name’s not—”

But he stops, because it hits him like a freight train — he _is_ Mr. Diaz now.

By the time they were engaged, and probably long before, being a Buckley had stopped meaning much to Buck. He hadn’t talked to his parents in longer than he could remember — he’d left them a voicemail when he moved to LA and never heard back — and Maddie hadn’t been a Buckley in years, never legally changing her name back between Kendall and Han. He was on his own little Buckley island as far as he was concerned, and it was a pretty lonely existence.

Until Eddie. And Chris. These Diaz boys who _became_ his family, his everything, made him feel accepted and loved in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling, made him think about writing “Evan Diaz” surrounded by hearts like he was in middle school because nothing had felt more right to him. He wanted matching turnout coats with their matching names for this life they were building for themselves, together. 

So the change hadn’t really been a question — not for Buck, at least. For Eddie, it was a question that needed to be asked about 65 times despite the answer never changing.

“Are you _sure_?” he had asked when Buck first brought it up at the beginning of their wedding planning.

“We can always hyphenate, I’m happy to take your name too,” he said as Buck filled out the forms for new work gear.

“Seriously, if this isn’t what you want, let me know,” he said as they walked up the steps to the court clerk’s office, paperwork in hand.

“Eddie!” Buck said, whirling around at the top step, placing both hands on Eddie’s shoulders where he stopped just below him. “This is _exactly_ what I want. I want you, me, and Chris to be a family in every single way we can be, including our last name.”

Eddie just stared at him like he’d offered to buy him every star in the sky, and kissed him long and slow until he could barely remember _any_ of his names.

He’d been called his new name quite a bit since then — when they were pronounced husbands, by their friends and family at the reception, all the people at the hotel in Maui — and it felt good and _right_ , but it felt like pretend. Like any minute someone would break the spell and call him Mr. Buckley, and he’d be right back on that island he’d finally managed to escape.

But here — on their first week back from their honeymoon, the whole wedding still feeling like an elaborate dream — a stranger had called him Mr. Diaz because that’s the only thing he’s ever been or ever will be to her. For the rest of his life, that’s who he’ll be to _everyone._

He tries to make his voice work, but it’s sticking behind the lump in his throat.

He watches Molly lean over to Eddie and whisper, “Is he okay?”

Eddie laughs, but his eyes are impossibly soft, like he knows exactly what’s happened to Buck, just like he always does. “He’ll be alright. And I’m sure he’d be more than happy to let you name your fish after him."

She flashes another smile as her mom calls her name, waving at them as she skips away. Eddie watches her go, turning to Buck and manhandling him until he’s sitting on the floor of the ambulance again. He looks around before standing in the space between Buck’s legs, hands resting gently on his shoulders.

Buck breathes in sharply, snapping back to reality. He looks up at Eddie, who’s still looking at him all soft and sweet, and he feels his eyes well up of their own accord.

“I’m a Diaz,” he says, quiet and breathless, and he’s sure he’d float away if Eddie wasn’t holding on to him, grounding him.

“That’s what it says on your driver’s license,” Eddie says, thumbs stroking the skin at the base of his neck.

“Mr. Diaz. _Evan Diaz_.” He’s said it before, written it and heard it, but it finally, _finally,_ feels real. Eddie smiles at that, and it’s _dazzling_ , and Buck can’t help but lean up for a kiss. It’s quick — they are still on the job, after all — but then Eddie pulls him in for something deeper, and he’s really never been able to deny him anything.

They jump apart at the sounds of the truck’s horn.

“Diazes!” Chim shouts. “If you’re not on this truck in 10 seconds you’re walking back to the station!”

They’re halfway there before Buck pulls up short, grabbing Eddie’s hand and squeezing for his attention. There’s tears in his eyes again, he can feel them. He’s not sure when he’ll ever _stop_ tearing up. He doesn’t think he actually wants to, doesn’t want this novelty to _ever_ wear off.

Eddie looks back at him, confused.

“ _Diazes_ ” is all Buck says.

Eddie laughs, and Buck is flying.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell with me about the diazes on [tumblr](https://tylerhunklin.tumblr.com/) with me!


End file.
